[img]1211|left|Charles M. Blow||no_popup[/img]Chuckie Blow of The New York Times is one of those store-bought dime-a-billion liberal blokes. At the zoo, they are in the Trained Seals section — talk without moving your lips or your mind. Mr. Blow is assigned the same two-tiered task in every Saturday esaay:
• To relate how compassionate the left is, and
• To spew bulbous clouds of negative fog about the hated Republicans.
The petulant, puerile, priggish, predictable, liberal pulse-parroting Mr. Blow told his fans in last Saturday’s edition that he recently swallowed his pride and stepped down to become one of us commoners for several days. He deigned to walk among us.
Determined to make his liberal professors proud, the humble Mr. Blow returned to his native Deep South, “a thousand miles from the moneyed canyons of Manhattan” — my golly, can this wizard wield a wicked phrase — to talk “to everyday people, blue-collar workers, people not trying to win the future so much as survive the present.
“They do hard jobs and odd jobs — any work they can find to keep the lights on and the children fed.
“No one mentioned the (vulgarism) argument about the debt ceiling. No one. Life is pressing down on them so hard that they can barely breathe. They just want Washington to work, the way they do.”
Mr. Blow’s modest rhapsodizing was nearly bottomless. I thought I had died and gone to wherever I am landing as I read on about his underachieving Southern models of mankind.
“They are honest people who do honest work — crack-the-bones work; lift-it, chop-it, empty-it, glide-it-in-smooth work; feel-the-flames-up-close work — things that no one wants to do but someone must.”
Mr. Blow has no idea whether they are honest. He has no notion whether the husbands drink all night, cheat on their wives, beat their children. Such nightmares are rampant among those who have escaped. But that would scuff up a good liberal storyline. He has an agenda, and nothing will mar it.
When Mr. Blow concluded his horrific hymn of horrification, I still wasn’t sure of his destination — just that it reeked of nonsense that he somehow would use as a hammer against Republicans.
Rule No. 1when reading most American newspapers:
Be wary of thin-thinking liberal do-gooders — they travel in packs — who flex all of their cerebral muscles to celebrate the least accomplished among us merely because of who they are, not what they have done. The left-wing lobby breaks out in hives to honor single moms, abortion doctors, gays, and that all-time favorite, the cellar-dwellers, the ever-lovin’ put-upon “poor and middle-class.” They sound like Swishy’s favorite media sycophants when they belittle the successful and worship the unaccomplished. The game is the oldest strategy in the liberal playbook, class warfare, Swishy’s tool of choice.
Mr. Blow has memorized the words to the morbid melody he calls “Lessons from Low-Wage Workers”:
“They, too, sing America. But they’re the ones less talked about — either not glamourous enough or rancorous enough. They are the ones without champions, waiting for Democrats to gather the gumption to defend with the working poor with the same ferocity with which Republicans protect the filthy rich, waiting for a tomorrow that never comes.”
Only a liberal who has been terminally programmed could reel off a dishonest line like that. Most poor people deliberately choose poverty. Most are uneducated, markedly unambitious, unimaginative.
Don’t emulate the successful, Mr. Blow. Create phony victims.
Mr. Blow demeans the technological, financial and commercial giants who are the engine of our country. Instead, he reaches down and heaps stratifying praise on the cerebrally impoverished who nose out a living and are not a model for anyone.
Shoot low, Mr. Blow, and you will end up low.
Hundreds of words later, Mr. Blow calls the simple people “the backbone of this country.”
Hopefully not, or soon we will fall behind South Sudan.
No one Swish and his fellow liberals insistently deny the reality of American exceptionalism.
